Clouds of Compassion
by li'l fat necrosis
Summary: They say blood runs thicker than water... but in some cases, even the thickest blood requires spilling. SYOT.
1. Futuere, Puella

**Clouds of Compassion: Prologue**

* * *

 _You're just a ghost of blissful feelings,  
A cloud of smoke that I keep breathing,  
An illusion, I'm losing you to the games in my mind._

* * *

 **Elianna Gitanjali, 34;**

 **Journalist.**

* * *

 _Ninety-three._

That's the number of how many lives that were lost in a recent riot that started in District Two after several rather important factories had been shut down due to hazardous conditions. It was almost becoming an everyday thing, which did almost make the thirty four year old curious if this was going to continue long enough that they could see protests from the rest of the Districts. As wild and brutal as their traditions and certain careers went, it was almost surprising to see them bite back against the Capitol for reasons such as this.

They were a loyal bunch, she'd give them that. Stupidly loyal at that. Their actions would prove them to be nothing but that of spoiled children needing to learn not to bite the hands that fed them. If they decided to foolishly rebel against them further, they would easily be demolished and disbanded in mere seconds, as seen just hours ago. The notion that they even have a chance against armed, trained guards… it almost made her laugh. Even their traditional training backgrounds wouldn't compare to the intensity that came with actual training that Peacekeepers stationed there have endured for the six years that is mandatory to go through.

Still, as humorous as this really was, Elianna couldn't focus on the rather petty matters of the Districts right now. The Capitol had much more exciting and entertaining pressing prescience that needed her to focus all of her attention on right now. Afterwards, she could type up some report detailing the events that transpired in District Two lately without worry. If she even had time. Around this time of the year, there was always so many things that needed her full attention. She'd need a miracle to write out all of the things.

Sighing, she looked up from the old typewriter that she was slowly typing away at. It'd be almost time for departure, if not already time. Letting her shoulders drop with a deep breath, the pink haired woman around the room, searching for the dress that she had wanted desperately to wear tonight for the banquet. Finding it, she smiled. Her carefully stitched and bedazzled dress hung nicely over her bed, the avox obediently standing against the corner of the wall with her head down, waiting for the woman's command.

Tonight would be a magical event. The amount of glitz and glamour that would be highlighting the the three main events happening in the City Circle was going to be phenomenal. It was almost impossible to get passed security anymore for events going on nowadays, it thrilled Elianna so much that she was finally getting the chance to do this for the first time.

It was something the woman had always wanted to write. Even when she was a young child, it was all she ever dreamed about. Now, as an adult with actual access, it seemed like it was finally going to become a reality for her.

She could barely see the faintest lights glimmering from the City Circle, reminding her just how busy and beautiful everything was going to be tonight. Just from her tiny little apartment, she could see them dressing up the City Circle in beautiful lights and banners. Holograms of their beloved President Bennett smiling proudly as it flicks to their newest victor, and back again. It looked simply gorgeous. Elianna wondered if they'd ever be able to top it.

There were currently three main events happening in the City Circle- the banquet celebrating the recent win of the latest victor, Cara Albright of District Five, the fashion show for a new designer that has recently been thrown all over the place, and the new class of graduating Peacekeepers and the likes.

They should be revealing the Quarter Quell for tonight, if she remembered correctly. She needed to be at the President's Mansion if she wanted to be one of the first to put up a story detailing what was said, what the twist for the year was, and the current gossip that was always prevalent at these types of things. As important as the other two fields were, she didn't want to give up one of the biggest events of the year. She refused to ever give up on her dream.

Elianna had heard of all the talk- all the bets that transpired there, the sex, the fights… it was every journalist's wet dream.

Standing up, Elianna snapped her fingers, glancing back towards the avox who immediately shot their head up. Even from as far as she was from here, she could see how dark and vacuous her stare really was. It was almost as if she was completely dissociated now.

It would prove to be a bountiful night if all goes to plan… the amount of politicians and high ranked socialites that would be loitering around in suspense, their tongues loose and greedy to spread some rumours from the alcohol that would surely be supplied tonight. Not to mention how close she'd be to the Gamemakers- they'd be drunk and maybe a bit willing to flirt. It wouldn't be too hard to get them to give her some slight hints about the arena, not if she was willing to drop subtle hand rests.

* * *

Just as she suspected, the party was already going as soon as she managed to arrive.

The stumbling frames of young, naive socialites and the likes immediately captured her eye. This would definitely prove to be an interesting night- she could hardly wait to grab one of them for a quick interview, infact Elianna was rather close to grabbing one of them right now. It was too perfect for her to pass up. Maybe in the morning, once she submitted her Quarter Quell reveal, she'd start seeing her names on the guests lists more often.

Before she could, a sudden voice forced her attention to the stage.

On it, she noticed several young children on stage, each dressed in traditional Capitol dresses. She could name several of them just from the tip of her tongue- Valeria Vitalion, the daughter of a prominent stylist, Appius Vipstanus, one of the newest popular dancers… why were they there though?

As far as she knew, it wasn't very common for children to be attending one of these events. Even the victors rarely showed up here.

Looking around the area, she was surprised to find that she could see a few young children sitting at the tables. Along with them sitting patiently with food being shoved in their mouths, she located woman standing to the side of them. Most of them seemed to be closely related to them, but she couldn't be sure. It wasn't too uncommon for nannies to look incredibly close to what their children.

This was definitely not normal… very rarely did family be brought with them to any parties. Most of the time, families were pretended that they didn't exist. It was an odd tradition, she admitted, but it made sense. Or it did to her. The Capitol had a lot of strange traditions that would make very little sense to outsiders like the victors, but it was still home to her.

The oldest girl, Valeria, broke from their straight chain of children, bowing. She opened her mouth, a gentle hum escaping her lips as she motions for the other children to slowly join her. The youngest, a young redhead fails to join in, but begins to clap his hands together, which triggers two other younger children to begin snapping their fingers.

Soon enough, they all begin to sing.

It sounded shrill to her ears, but she couldn't help admit that Appius had a rather nice voice. Still, she tended to dislike the sound of singing in general. It just sounded like useless noise in her opinion, like someone trying to break the already awkward silence with fruitless words that just… it made her want to dig her fake nails into her ears and tear out any ability to hear.

Appius very quickly finished the song, his voice low and steady enough to sing, " _Her dead eyes missing, her nails ripped out, her lips forever in a glasgow smile; oh, the victor is covered in scars that will forever tell her story…"_

* * *

The anthem had finished playing by the time Elianna managed to sit down, carefully adjusting all of her equipment. The excitement that had been brewing in her stomach long gone as it was very quickly replaced with the familiar feeling of desire for the Quarter Quell taste. She could see all the hints around her- the children that earlier performed for them, the amount of high ranking officials traipsing all around them with their families, the way that the President's children were on the stage…

All of them were clues, she knew this. She was always told that there was something special involving parties relating to the Hunger Games, how they gave hints about the Games twists and their arenas during parties and everything leading up to it… always.

Children, she assumed. Perhaps it'd be one where only children were allowed to be reaped or volunteer. _No._ She shook her head, looking back up to the balcony that the the President was to come out of. _We've already done something close to that. It has to be something similar to it though- family? There's always been talk about sending entire families into the Hunger Games. Perhaps this will be it, finally._

The President came out as soon as the curtains open, decked out in a rather flattering pink suit with his youngest daughter trailing after him with a dark brown box held in her hands. In her hair, Elianna spotted a flower grown of statices and anemones twisted around to give her an almost elegant feeling. She couldn't remember the meaning of either flower, but it didn't matter anymore. This is what she'd been waiting for so long to do.

Jotting down the two Bennett's appearances in her notebook, she took in a deep breath. Her heart was racing.

Bennett approached the microphone, a smile painted on his face. As usual, he started up on his famous speech, causing Elianna to look over the stage once more. She'd heard the speech so many times in the last thirty years she'd been alive, and didn't care to listen to it once more today.

President Bennett seemed colder than usual, she noted, his voice was almost robotic to an unnatural degree. She wondered if he didn't like the large extravagant parties the Capitol threw every year- he was getting to be rather old for a President- sixty three. His old son, Creed, should be taking over for him in the next upcoming years, she remembered.

Once it drew to a halt, he cleared his throat, he looked down at his podium, reading from the script.

"On the 25th anniversary, as a reminder to the rebels that their children were dying because of their choice to initiate violence, every district was made to hold an election and vote on the tributes that who would represent it." He paused, letting the crowd take in his words. President Bennett looked over the room, locking his sight on someone on the ground near her.

Elianna finally found who he was staring at after a few moments- the Head Gamemaker.

President Bennett continued.

"For the second Quarter Quell," he paused, briefly, eyes scanning through the paper. "Twice as many tributes will be sent in as reminder that for each Capitol citizen death, two rebels died. Every District had sent in four tributes."

Elianna could remember how terrified she was the first time she watched the game. It was one of the few times that District Twelve managed to bring home a victor.

"On the 75th anniversary, as a reminder to the rebels that even the strongest among them cannot overcome the power of the Capitol, the male and female tributes was to be reaped from their existing pool of victors."

She looked throughout the crowd, attempting to find the few victors from earlier, but was unsuccessful. Pity, really. Having their reactions wouldn't looked great for this.

President Bennett continued. "For the fourth Quarter Quell, as a reminder that each District was equally to be blamed, there would be no volunteers."

It was a short game, she remembered. The arena was a cold tundra that had a very low source of food and a large supply of mutts that had very little trouble attacking anyone they saw. It was one of the many Games that the Capitol had messed up by getting too involved. The pink haired woman tried to remember who the victor of that year was, but came up short. It was a short ginger, she recalled, but his name was lost.

The Gamemaker stood up from his seat, whispering something to a woman sitting right next to him before leaving the room area entirely. She wondered where he was going- was he even allowed to leave the party before the President finished with his ever so important announcement? Didn't he want to know what the twist for this year was going to be?

"On the fifth Quarter Quell," President Bennett said very quickly, seemingly getting tired of the drawn out speech. She could hear the crowd slowly becoming restless, a few losing their attention and focusing on the food in front of them. "As a reminder for the innocent lives that were brutally stolen in the Dark Days, two under the ages of eleven would be reaped alongside the usual ages of twelve through eighteen."

That was another rather brutal game- there were a rather large amount of infants crawling around the arena, many of them dying from dehydration and neglect from the other tributes. The winner ended up being an eleven-year old that managed to hide in the cornucopia long enough before it was taken away from her and she was forced to deal with a sixteen year old with a limp leg from an earlier mutt attack. She couldn't remember how the child defeated them, but it was one of the first times in years that a tribute under thirteen had won.

Finally, the President continued. "On the sixth Quarter Quell, as a reminder of how benevolent and kind the Capitol truly was, a pool of incarcerated criminals, rebels, and spies would be that year's selectable tributes. The victor of this Hunger Games Quarter Quell will be released, parted of their crimes, and their families allowed to be brought back together."

It was one of the very few times where she actually disliked watching it. There was so many violent scenes that caused her to become nervous to see. Of course, she was a child then. She's grown a lot less sick from the graphics of the Games knowing the reason for it, but she couldn't help still avoid rewatching this Game.

As soon as he finished with his description of the final Quarter Quell, the entire crowd focused their eyes on him. President Bennett motioned for his young daughter to bring him the box, opening it to reveal a delicate, tiny white envelope with the word '175th' on the front in beautiful cursive handwriting.

The room was incredibly silent as the man read over the small letter.

"For the 175th anniversary of the Hunger Games, as a reminder to the District about how they tore apart innocent families, the tributes will have the option of selecting a member of his or her family to go in their place."

At first, there was nothing. No one spoke- everyone seemed to be doing what Elianna was doing and going over the scene in their head so many times; " _No volunteers. A family member can be selected to go in…"_

And then the anthem came on, President Bennett and his children suddenly disappearing behind the heavy curtains.

Loud chatter filled the room, the shrieks of excited young children almost drowning out everyone.

Elianna rose from her seat, stumbling almost as she wrote down exactly what he said. Her heart was still racing… the utter excitement of it all was just too good; she couldn't believe that she just sat in front of the balcony of President Bennett's mansion, and listened to him reveal this year's Quarter Quell.

It felt almost nerve wracking to be here again, but she forced herself to glance around the room again. The families all seem to be leaving, which still left quite Capitolites that would gladly talk to her.

This was definitely going to be an interesting night.

* * *

 _ **Smoke - Pvris**_

* * *

 **Okay, so hey… how are y'all doing? It's been so long since I've really been an active force in the fandom. And, honestly, I've missed this. I missed writing and knowing who everyone is. Knowing that I can take out all my petty hatred towards some of y'all on your tributes, giggle and tell everyone my plans because I have a big mouth. It's going to be a long ride ahead of all of us, and I can't wait to accompany you all through it. But enough of this. On with the story!**

 **So, in-case anyone no one realizes what this means- for the 175th Hunger Games, there will be no volunteers. For every District, two people of either gender will be selected. The person will be allowed to either- select a member of their family (a male can decided to select his aunt and an aunt can pick her own male child- goes to third cousin and it doesn't matter the gender theme anymore. Age range is twelve to thirty, so send me some older guys or some tributes that feel super fucking offended that their younger cousin send them in even though they ain't got no legs.)**

 **Anyway. Thank you all for reviewing, if you do. I've been on here for long enough to know that reviews aren't everything and I am always going to be ultimately writing for myself… but they're still good. (Oh wait. Nevermind. I just realized that I am still a desperate review whore that puts my self worth and confidence on how many reviews I get. Yeah, sorry to put all that on y'alls.)**

 **Okay, good enough for now. Thanks to Haiden (Glitchkin), and Caleb (IVolunteerAsAuthor) for looking over this for me. So, yeah. I hope you guys like the story. :)**

 **~Anna the failure**

* * *

 _ **What's your opinion of Elianna?**_

 _ **Why am I trying to mention that there are riots in District Two, but never mention them again?**_

 _ **Am I looking professional enough?**_

 _ **If I beg enough, will you submit?**_

 _ **Why am I writing in first person? I hate first person. (Ignore this question. I changed thirty seconds later to third and am finally happy. Fuck first and everything that follows it.)**_

* * *

 _ **Okay thanks for reading, bye.**_


	2. Percidere, Puer

**Clouds of Compassion: Prologue**

* * *

 _I see your face, an apparition,_

 _But now it's changed,_

* * *

 **Publius Cluilii, 47;**

 **Head Gamemaker.**

* * *

A gentle breeze flew past him, the little bells entwined in his hair giving off some chimes in response. It seemed like it was getting to be colder than it ever really did before at this time of year. It should still be considered summer, but it looked like fall would be approaching them quickly. No matter, he told himself. Publius always did enjoy the fall time more so than the dreadfully winter the Capitol had. Last year was a tragedy with so many events and parties being called of because of the weather, but this year, he hoped that it'd be different. Perhaps it would be.

His car had came to a complete stop before he was able to continue his line of thinking, glancing up to the rather rundown looking building that held his father. The fact that he was in here all by his lonesome self killed him inside, but it was for the better.

Father was a threat to himself and others when his episodes got bad- he needed to be around people that could manage his temper better than he could. He was never home either, he couldn't properly watch them. Publisus doubted that his condition would ever improve if he just locked him up in his rather small apartment. If he had to think further about it, he'd probably consider it elder abuse. That was no way for a Capitol-born citizen to live.

The man was better off here, he told himself almost daily. Here, he had several trained nurses that were practically living inside the mansion, avoxes that were being taught how to properly care for him if the nurses aren't there, and an endlessly calming atmosphere that just had to have some good effect on his well being. The dying willow trees gave a nice breeze all the time, the artificial pond in the front and the back yard allowed him to have beautiful view of the surrounding mountains and terrain… it was a perfect oasis for his beloved father.

He seemed like he was doing well, seeing as his violent temper has gone down dramatically, and appeared to look happy when he saw him. One of these days, the white haired man hoped that his father would start retreating back to his old state of when he was younger. Even if the Capitol was able to cure and treat some of the most debilitating diseases, so many of the mental illnesses that clung to young and old alike still stuck around.

Technology would never be able to cure these mental things, he this but he refused to give up on his hope.

Leaving the car, he gave a steady nod to the avox driving the car. He wouldn't be long- no, he only had a few hours before the President would notice he was gone and would instantly know where he was at. Publius didn't care to end up getting punished because of his father once again.

Walking up closer to the steps of the of the building, he stopped short. A lone avox had made his way towards the front of the building as he carried a large trash bag. He glanced up briefly, noticing the much taller man. Publius recognized a soft expression of his face, very easily remembering the fact that the avox, a young man from District Five named Menachem, was one of the more personal caretakers of his father.

Menachem was being trained privately by the nurses- which was interesting to see, seeing as the boy would never really be able to make anything from it unless Publius himself would fall ill.

"Is my father outside?" he asked, his tone a surprisingly light one today.

The avox nodded, bringing his arm up so that he could point to the back of the house. Of course, he'd be in the back. It was such a nice day, the breeze from the water would make him feel so much better.

Giving the avox an appreciative smile, he left him.

"Father?" he called out, glancing around the tiny backyard until he spotted his father standing just a few feet inside of the artificial lake.

Father was just staring at it with a limp, blank, unfocused gaze that made it impossible to find any set of emotion in it. He was having another bad day, he thought. Perhaps it was time he brought his father inside, or at least bring him back to reality.

"Father," he said once more, voice rising in hopes that it would force him out of his shell shocked state. The man didn't react at all, only further sinking into the water until Publius managed to grab onto an arm, gently tugging him towards an empty bench.

He gave him a confused look, weakly muttering something that Publius couldn't make out properly. Still, he let the man lead him, his eyes slowly becoming unblurry once again.

"Aloisius," he whispered, letting a shaky hand settle on his son's clothed hand. There was hope that was apparent in his voice, a sudden tug of his lips moving upwards. He was silent as soon as the words came out still, but kept his content look.

Settling him down on the bench, the younger man joined him, hands moving to claps his. "No, father… Aloisius isn't here- he's with mother, do you remember?" he wanted to pretend that his voice wasn't so soft now. It was a lie, he knew, but the truth would only further set his father back in any progress they made. His mother had long been dead now- since his late thirties, seeing as his father and mother had his brother and him at an older age than most.

He could swear he heard his mother's name- _Tanaquil_ \- but he couldn't be sure, only sure that that he needed to switch topics now. Soon he'd ask about Aloisius and his mother and he wasn't quite sure that he'd be able to keep changing the topics without him getting upset. Father hadn't had any incidents in weeks now, and Publius intended to keep the streak very much so alive.

"The President allowed my area, father," he smiled, rubbing his father's calloused hands. "She thought it would match up beautifully with the Quell… are you going to be able to watch my arena come to life, father? I know you've never been one for the Hunger Games…"

The older man didn't respond again, keeping his lips locked tightly as he turned away from him, staring up to the sky. He didn't seem to be up for much discussion today, but that was fine. Even when Publius was younger, his father was a private, silent man. Never cared to discuss his day to day life with him or Aloisius… it was nice to see that his main personality had changed that much. It showed some progress.

"They're selecting families this year," he trailed off, patting down on the shaky hands before dropping them suddenly. "Do you remember when Aloisius and I were younger? I'm sure the two of us would've selected each other to go into other places... we had such a rivalry going on for no real reason other than we just wanted to prove that we were better than one another. It seemed so silly now, don't you agree?"

There wasn't a response verbally, but he noticed a small nod from him.

"Has Aloisius called you?" he asked, though he quickly realized that most likely not. For one, his father's memory was awfully short term- there was a very low chance that he'd remember a call from his older son. And there was the fact that Aloisius was awful at following through on things… he barely managed to take care of himself, much less his elderly father. It almost felt wrong to rely on him for anything.

"I'll see about having him come up to visit before the Hunger Games start… would you like that, father?"

Again, he tried to smile.

* * *

 _ **Smoke - Pvris**_

* * *

 **Uh… so, hey, again. You guys are okay? Hows your summers all individually going?**

 **This is basically just a quick grab by for reviews and to hit up my view count, but who actually admits this? :) Let's just call this a filler chapter and say it's just in case y'alls need to use this to review.**

 **Honestly, I don't have anything to say… sorry? You all have about a week or so to send me in your tributes so still… take your time! Feel free to send me a message when the deadline is approaching (about the 25th would be the best) if you need a day or two extra to send in your tribute(s). Can't wait to see who everyone has sent in! I've a really good cast already and have some good plots so far.**

 **Stick to Districts like Three, Five, and and Twelve though. Best shots in getting in...**

 **Thanks to Haiden (Glitchkin), and Caleb (IVolunteerAsAuthor) for looking over this for me… again. Erm, now that I think about it… send your condolences to them for having to go over my work?**

 **~Anna the filth**

* * *

 _ **What do you think about Publius?**_

 _ **Out of all the syots you've read, which Quell Twist / twist in regular games has been your favourite?**_

 _ **How's my grammaries?**_

 _ **Why haven't you submitted yet? You literally have like a week left and I've done the majority of the blog already.**_

 _ **If you could, what arena do you think you'd survive in?**_

 _ **How long do you think it took me to write this chapter?**_

* * *

 _ **Okay bye**_


	3. Haec Cunnum

**Clouds of Compassion: Prologue**

* * *

 _This isn't violence this is just a war in my head,  
I give it time but it never seems to end._

* * *

 **Makar Smirnov, 8;**

 **Tired Resident of District Five.**

* * *

Mom was running around the hospital waiting room still, lifting up Enid in her arms, screaming at the annoyed looking nurses that all seemed to blow her off.

None of them seemed to be very happy with her acting like a total nut case, but he couldn't blame them. There was already a whole bunch of people running around with bigger problems than whatever was affecting Enid. He didn't think that Enid really needed to be here- she wasn't crying or bleeding out like that time with Jarek when he cut open his head and needed the doctors to give him stitches.

Makar sighed, pushing his feet up in annoyance so it was resting against the chair in front of him, uncomfortable in the half broken chair. Mom didn't seemed to care as much when Jarek hurt himself, or that time when auntie spanked Stefan so hard that he cried. She only cared when one of the girls got hurt… When Kassia scraped and knee and it got infected because she was being stupid and didn't tell anyone, mom cried and called herself a bad mother.

The girls were stupid anyway. Kassia was stupid, and Enid was just a baby so she didn't matter much in comparison to him and his other brothers, and Irena wasn't even as responsible as him. Mom cared more about them than she did him and the other boys. It wasn't fair! They were all so much better than them, she should love them more. He was the oldest of all the boys so he should be getting fawned over, but instead, he was ignored in favour of the other girls. Mom was stupid.

"Mom," he said, glancing around the room. His siblings all seemed to be asleep, minus Enid that was still in mom's arms. "I'm tired!"

Makar wondered just how late it really was now, it was probably past midnight now. Mom did wank them out of bed really late, he was almost asleep by the time she came screaming into his room. It was so annoying. Why did he even have to come? It's not they would be in any trouble if she decided to leave them home with their auntie. Auntie Blanka could watch them, or even Irena could watch them. She was fourteen, she was basically an adult.

When she didn't answer, he stood up, being careful to not wake Kacper who was sleeping right next to his feet.

"Mom," he said, his voice growing louder as he finally found his mother in the thick crowd of people again. "I want to go home."

Mom didn't answer him once again, waving a dismissive hand at him while she pushed past a crippled looking man, continuing to speak in a quick tone about needing someone to look at Enid. "Sh-she's hurt! Look at her- my poor baby girl, you're a nurse for Panem's sake. You _have_ _to_ know that she's in so much pain."

Enid gave a tired whine, hiding her face in their mother's long nightgown. Makar rolled his eyes, annoyed with how dramatic mom was being right now. Honestly, Enid wasn't even hurt! He didn't know what happened, but she was overreacting big time. He grabbed onto his mother's sleeve, pulling it down harshly.

"Not now, Makar- go back sitting down, I don't have time for you." she shooed him away, still not bothering to give him a second glance.

"She's not even hurt, mom!" he tried to reason, groaning as loud as he possibly could.

She didn't reply, though shot him the dirtiest of looks before mouthing, "Go", and turning away from him. The nurse in front of him gave Makar a brief sympathetic look, but it disappeared as soon as his mother began speaking to the woman once more.

Makar sighed loudly, slowly moving back towards the seating area in defeat. Kacper was the only one awake this time, half awake in the seat that he was in before looking at him with a confused frown.

"Is momma taking us home soon?" he asked quietly, rubbing his eyes and yawning. Kacper got up from his seat, letting the older blonde take his spot so that he curl back up on the ground, head resting on their older sister's lap. "I'm cold… I wanna go home, Makkie."

"She's still whining about Enid to the nurses," Makar responded, kicking his feet back up on the seat in front of him. He gave a small kick, curious if the person sleeping there was gonna wake up or say something from his kick. They didn't, which, for some reason, upset the boy enough to give the seat another harsh kick. "Might have to sleep here again tonight…"

"Why can't auntie Blanka come and get us?"

Makar shrugged, crossing his arms before letting his eyes close shut. "When Irena wakes up, ask her to try and get her to reason with mom. I don't know… Tired. Go back to sleep, Kacper."

Kacper nodded, whispering a quiet, "Goodnight." before letting sleep overcome his being.

Makar, on the other hand, found it a lot harder to just close his eyes and fall asleep.

He hated being in their tiny little cramped hospital so often because mom fell apart so easily, hated how loud it really was, and how there was so many dirty people that didn't really belong in a hospital. Not all of them looked ill or hurt, some were just casually sitting around on the seats, blankets wrapped around their chests. He noticed that a lot of them arrived here a lot earlier than he and his family did. Why would anyone just camp out in a hospital? That's stupid… they should've gone home.

Or were they homeless? That's something he didn't really think about- District Five had an incredibly low homeless population, along with a lot of systems set up in place that usually caught anyone that was about to dip into the poverty lane. It almost felt weird to think of his home as having residents that didn't actually have houses or a stable job. It made him wonder if they came here because it was warm and they would've be kicked out.

A woman came over to their area, a nurse if he had to guess going solely by her pink uniform, shabby looking blankets piling high in her arms. She gave him a small smile, reaching up to the pile to grab a few blankets before dropping it on his lap, careful as to not arouse his sleeping siblings. She left as soon as he managed to let out a quiet 'thank you'.

Makar rubbed his eyes tiredly, stretching his rather small body out against the chair. His head connected with his sister's chest, and legs moving on to rest on his young brother's, Kajetan, side. He was so tired still… where was mom? Usually when she couldn't get a doctor or a nurse to examine one of the girls, she comes back and whines and cries about how cruel they were being for not looking at a sweet little girl in her arms.

She should be back by now.

Tossing his blanket over his pale shoulders, he made his way towards the area where he remembered his mother last standing. He's surprised to find that she's not here anymore.

"Mom?" he called out, looking around before sighing in defeat once again. Where could she've gone? It's not like she could just go home with Enid… would she? No, probably not. Even if she loved the girls more, she's not mean enough to just take Enid home.

She might've finally managed to find a nurse that would take her in so they could check over Enid- though it surprised him that they wouldn't do it in the open. There didn't look like there was anything wrong with her. Mom was just being overprotective over Enid like she's always has- nothing more to it.

"Have you see my mom?" he turned to a stranger, frowning when they gave a quick shake of their head and went back to whispering among themselves with their partner.

He was still tired.

Turning around, Makar decided against further searching. Mom would show up sooner or later, and then take them all home. Maybe if they were lucky, they'd be able to skip school because of how late they all were here. That'd be a nice surprise if it all worked out right.

Right now, all he could think of was sinking into place with his siblings.

* * *

 _ **Smoke - Pvris**_

* * *

 _ **Cloudsofcompassionhg . blogspot. Com (side note: why do I have 29 hits from France as of the 29th? XD)**_

* * *

 **Oh my gosh, guys! I did it! I got all the tributes and wrote three chapters already! :D The hard part is all over now!… uh, now I just have to write the rest of the chapters. But, uh… seriously! Thank you all for submitting. I think I accepted just about everyone that submitted, which normally sounds really bad, but everyone was really great. I love all the tributes so far (minus Steele), and I hope the rest of you all do too.**

 **So, without forcing y'alls to keep reading me… uhm, have fun on the blog! Tell me how you think of it. (Apologies for how unorganized it is- I accepted like so little females… erk. It was hard to match them all up.)**

 **Sorry about any errors you might see this chapter; 'tis is what happens when you give something a quick look over at two am, the time where both of your beta-readers are in bed, and you're bad at catching errors until they're published... Sorry.**

 **How many of you just skipped down to the bottom? *shames***

 **Oh, and before I forget! I stole this idea from a few other authors, but please do look on my profile and visit the forum! :)**

* * *

 _What's your opinion of Makar?_

 _How was my half asleep writing?_

Who do you like from the… yeah, you guys all know how to review.

* * *

 **Tributes for Cloud of Compassion**

 **District One**

Male: Westyn Lenair, 18

Male: Garnet Morgan, 22

 **District Two**

Male: Steele McKinnon, 26

Female: Eleanor Blake, 17

 **District Three**

Female: Eloise Osanna, 15

Female: Armani Elson, 43

 **District Four**

Female: Aeliana Decimus, 17

Female: Lea Backwater, 16

 **District Five**

Male: Kelvin Fritz, 62

Female: Tiyana Blake, 20

 **District Six**

Male: Carleton Valero, 14

Female: Ernestina Traction, 19

 **District Seven**

Male: Kuniva Dvorak, 23

Male: Anayi Novakov, 25

 **District Eight**

Male: Kaleb Alpine, 16

Female: Piper Giery, 15

 **District Nine**

Female: Mariya Yamashi, 21

Female: Abigail "Abby" Flax, 12

 **District Ten**

Male: Radolf "Ralf" Craven, 48

Female: Emery Marshall, 12

 **District Eleven**

Male: Gabriel Atsume, 13

Female: Madison Axepipe, 22

 **District Twelve**

Male: Grayson "Gray" Eliseo, 13

Female: Euphemia Nary-Moore, 52


	4. Caput Hic Praebeat

**Clouds of Compassion: Pre-Reapings**

* * *

 _Find a new place,  
Another space to invade,  
Another brain to decay,  
With your presence, with your ghost._

* * *

 **Kuniva Dvorak, 23;**

 **District Seven Male.**

* * *

He could swear that he could hear him.

He could always hear the soft, nervous giggle of Anayi's voice, even when he was in his heaviest of sessions and it was supposed to be impossible, but… _he swears, his voice was calling to him every fucking time without fail._

Anayi was saying something quiet, his voice rising in surprise like it's always done in the past when he was excited about something. Kuniva could faintly remember a time when Ana was like that with him- his voice always so excited, the way he held onto his body, almost always trying to steals cuddles and kisses from him. They were so young, both mindlessly in love and cheerful even when the rest of the District was eating itself alive in desperation to survive.

The was so long ago though… long before their relationship had turned to scrambles, with Anayi frequently breaking down due to his anxiety and the dry, soul sucking episodes of depression had occasionally taken over Kuniva even on his best days. Anayi had started to turn his hopes towards others just so that he could achieve the slightest bit of attention. He couldn't really blame him- after all, he could barely keep up with his own needs, much less his very dependent husband. Why he didn't just leave him was beyond him, Anayi could do so much better than him.

Still, he sighed to himself. He missed his Anayi.

Forcing himself to sit up from the bed, cursing inwardly when he felt his bones ache in response to the movement, he ran a hand through his thick black hair. It was beginning to become greasy again, but he couldn't really find a better reason to care. Anayi would tell him if he really needed to bathe, and he didn't really feel dirty in the first place. No real reason for him to waste so much precious water when he knew that it wasn't needed just yet.

His thoughts went back to Anayi, still faintly able to hear the sound of his voice. He wondered if he just imagined hearing him or not, which, honestly, wouldn't be the first time. It was always just lingering in the back of his head, reminding him that he'd never be able to truly escape reality knowing that Anayi was still there. He always needed Anayi.

A few moments later, he could hear a moan, and then loud scampering about of someone trying to retrieve their clothes. Inwardly, Kuniva just knew what they were doing, but he wanted to pretend that he didn't. Anayi had needs that needed to be filled… he couldn't become jealous; after all, how often did he turn his husband down for one of his very few wants? So often, Anayi almost never came around to ask, but he still did when his other toys rejected him.

Which, admittedly, was rare… almost too rare for him. They both liked Anayi, that much was obvious.

Anayi always did have a strange taste in men, if one were to count himself too. One of them was a thin, outrageously tall boy named Keon. He was a sweetheart, so sweet that Kuniva felt awful for being so jealous of him and Anayi occasionally.

Keon was so young though, barely out of the reaping bowl… it was almost cute to see Keon acting the same way as Anayi used to be, like a child chasing after other people for affection and love. It made him happy to see Anayi getting back the same amount of affection and admiration that he always gave his lovers. If there ever came a time- and he really hoped that it didn't ever happen- he wanted him and Keon to stay together. They'd be happy- _healthy even._ That's the only real thing he wanted for him. To not have to be around someone like himself, to be around someone that can mend his broken spirits and shower him with love until they were both worn out.

And then there was _Nan._

He wasn't even sure why Anayi put up with the much older man- all he ever used him for was sex… never kissed him, cuddled, or listened to him. Just… he was an asshole that didn't deserve a moment of Anayi's day. Fuck, he was so much older than him too. Thirty or so, why was he even associating with him? He was some rich carpenter heir- there was no real reason for him to want to see Anayi like this. Nan had so many options for sex and whatever… he didn't need to be with his husband.

Lifting his sheets off of him, Kuniva leaded up against the bed walls, lazily looking around the trashed bedroom. It'd been months since either of them had tried to clean it, and only then, they were trying to find certain bottles that they hid for the days when they were both were down and needed something to make them feel human again. Did they find them? He couldn't remember.

Kuniva almost missed noticing the door opening, revealing his husband, red hair as messy as it's always been, stumbling towards their bed. He looked drugged out of his mind, Kuniva noticed the rash of purple and red on the crooks of his arms, but he refused to fully admit that in his head. One of them needed to not be drugged up all the time, and he chose Ana. He had a little sister, one that needed him.

Him, on the other hand? He had no one that needed him, not really anymore. Flo was married, and his parents didn't give two shits about him. If he were to die, only Anayi would be affected by it at all.

Somehow, Anayi managed to keep steady long enough to make his way onto the bed, crawling on top of the dirty sheets before falling down just next to his legs.

"Ana," he whispered, his tone filled with worry, grabbing his shoulders as to shake them.

"'Nida," Anayi mumbled back, a giggle escaping his voice as he pulled himself further onto Kuniva's lap. "Missed you, missed you lots… so cold, dark and scary without you. 'Nint wanna wake you, just needed… need to be…"

Kuniva brushed back his red hair, using his thumb to caress his slick cheeks. "That's enough, I know, Anayi. Lay with me?"

Nothing else was said between the two of them, all that was heard was the door to their apartment slamming shut, and the bed spring still loud as Anayi pushed himself up on Kuniva's chest, a hand curling into the younger boy's clothes, feet huddled up between the black haired man's legs. Kuniva's lips tugged upward for the briefest of seconds before dropping and going back into a relaxed line.

"I love you, 'Nida," Anayi whispered, wiggling upwards as he barely managed to kiss his chin.

The younger man tangled his fingers with the redhead's, giving a quiet sigh of relief and contentment. "I know, Ana. I know."

"D'nt leave me," he whispered back, pressing his face into his chest, trying to become as tiny as he possibly could. It took him awhile to say anything else besides making cute moans, stretching his body against the Kuniva's. Kuniva let him do so, chuckling as his hands went to curl in his hair. "'M sorry, baby, love you sooo much."

"I won't," he reassured him, closing his eyes now once the wiggling went down. "I won't ever leave you, Anayi."

* * *

 **Grayson "Gray" Eliseo, 13;**

 **District Twelve Tribute.**

* * *

It was becoming increasingly colder out, forcing Gray to curl up into a tight ball underneath the market stall.

A couple had taken his usual 'home' just prior to him finding the stall, and he didn't think they'd move for the night. Not with his dark storm clouds illuminating overhead, they'd be suicidal if they thought they'd be able live a night under these circumstances. It was always so cold and wet this time of the year, the frequent heavy rain only worsening his living conditions.

He wasn't sure how he managed to lose his spot either- it was so well hidden from prying eyes such as the Peacekeepers and other people that didn't have adequate housing like himself. They seemed to have thrown away all of his stuff by the time he came back and found them asleep underneath the make shift housing. It was depressing to think of what little he had of his home gone now, thrown to either some drug dealer or prostitute or pawner for drugs like what his mother did to her trinkets, or for mere pennies.

The thought of his valuables being gone permanently crushed him.

A harsh cough broke out against his body, sending his feeble body down cold against the harsh metal stall, trying to contain himself further from incident. It seemed like he was getting sick again, which worried him even further. Soon, they'd be given their meager amount of tesserae from the ' _kind hearted'_ Capitol, and maybe he'd be able to persuade a Peacekeeper or the doctor again to trade him for some medicine.

Grey remembered when he was younger and his mother used to sing to him, or tell him stories of princes saving the day. He could remember feeling comforted by her soft voice, how she would brush his hair back from his face, hold him in her lap and cradle him…

And now she was dead.

Her touch now would feel cold, lifeless. Nothing like the warmth that emanated from her thin arms, nor would the stories she would tell him would feel the same. All the life that produced from her kind, childish stories, how they gave him and her hope and a sense of safety at times…

It wouldn't be there.

She was dead, nothing but a corpse that would only further harm him if he continued to think about her.

But he couldn't stop. Not when he was shivering underneath a stall, clothes damp, the cold shiver that ran down the back of his neck, and a fever catching on…He felt so cold, like death was on the verge of seizing him off the streets and allowing him to be with his mother again, but had decided to toy with him, make him suffer once again. It was sick, he thought.

Nothing had ever gone right in his life; not when mother turned to prostitution when they were growing even more destitute, or when he had to watch and hear them at night _screwing each other_ , or when she had died, still babbling on about how- ' _just you wait, Greyson, just wait. Our prince will come, and he will bring us medicine. And food. And gifts, oh yes, my love. He will shower us with love and special trinkets that he promised to do once more.'_

It was all lies, all fairy tales in her head that she concocted just for the sake of giving herself hope. The hope had gotten her killed, just like all the other naive people in this District. False hope, hope he once claimed to be real- claimed that she was telling the truth, that there was a prince out there that was going to take them away back to his kingdom and show them love. It was all fake, so childishly fake, but yet his mother still believed it.

Grey didn't notice when he started crying again, but he didn't care anymore. _Mom._

He curled up further against the stall, finally managing to keep out of the rain once he hid his face into the cold metal, unconcerned with the tiny puddle building underneath him, his shoes now drenched in both water and mud that stuck to his pasty skin.

Soon, the rain would stop… and people would come out and lay out their food and what not. Maybe if he was lucky, they wouldn't chase him away the moment they came out and saw him underneath the booth. Sometimes they left him scraps of burnt or left out food, occasionally even water, but it was rare that they were so kind to him. No only here truly cared about orphans anymore, if they ever truly did. It was a dog eat dog world and… and he was the smallest dog that was just waiting to be consumed by the largest dog.

He tried to close his eyes, burying his face into his thin, too thin, legs breath becoming labored now. It felt like he was choking on his own breath now, ribs aching and throat burning at each intake of breath.

At first, he tried to think of his mother and what she would do if she saw him like this. Even when she was at her worst, when she had decided to lose it completely and focus on solely on her 'princes', she would occasionally wrap him up with a blanket and remind him of how close their prince was from them. It was stories like that, the ones that made him believe in something good- he didn't know, they just filled him with hope and happiness, a sense of security that was never truly there or his own.

The prince never truly came in the end though.

 _And neither does the happy ending._

* * *

 **Armani Elson, 43;  
District Three Female.**

* * *

Kellis was still crying when she left the room.

Armani almost felt bad for saying the things that she did to her daughter, but it couldn't be helped. If she was going to throw a tantrum, she needed to at least not do it in front of Jolene.

Of course, she understood why she was so upset over the lost of her boyfriend, seeing as Grady was the man that Armani _herself_ wished that she could've married instead of her failure of a first husband that proved that he didn't truly care about her. Grady was so sweet, so affectionate and willing to put up with Kellis' over dramatic behaviour all the time. She was devastated to hear of his passing, especially since he was on the ripe age of twenty one. Her poor sweet grandbaby had been left fatherless by the sudden passing.

Not that he was the only death- the gas leak in his tiny, rundown apartment complex ended up taking many lives. It was so cruel, she couldn't understand why this simple little pipeline breakage that could destroy the lives of so many children and elderly people, but sparing, though causing drastic health problems, to many adults. The only way she could reassure herself was that her baby Jolene was not one of the casualties. She didn't know what she would do if her baby girl was gone because of the negligence of Kellis and Grady.

Armani approached the tiny cradle that held her granddaughter, smiling down at it. She seemed to still be sound asleep. A pity. Armani wanted to feed her and get some cuddles with the baby before Kellis got over herself and took the baby back into her room. _Maybe one time won't hurt,_ she thought to herself, smiling. _Kellis can whine about it as much as she likes, but I have the right to give love to my grandbaby._

Picking the tiny child up, she cradled her tiny head, amused when Jolene gave tiny squeaks of surprise. Her eyes were still closed, refusing to allow Armani to see her beautiful baby blue eyes. She had to remember that she was still only four weeks old, the poor thing was probably so tired from it's nap that it didn't want to believe it had to wake up now. It made her chuckle quietly.

"Don't you want to open your eyes for your grandmommy, Jolene?" she asked, kissing her budding hair. "I'll give you more kisses if I can see those lovely little eyes of yours."

Jolene was quiet as she attempted to stir in her arms, tiny bare toys catching on her belt.

"You're just like your mama," she quietly scolded, walking around the tiny living room in circles. "You're both so stubborn, and never want to do as I tell you."

She sighed loudly, setting the tiny infant on the couch so that she could grab a tiny baby bottle from the cabinets. Kellis hadn't wanted her to bottle feed the baby, but that just wasn't fair to her since she wanted to 'bond with her before moving her to solid foods'. She paid for their apartment, bought her so many items that they never would've had if it wasn't for her… she deserved to feed her baby! It as cruel of her to be so selfish.

"What mama doesn't know, won't hurt grandmommy," she whispered to the infant, humming loudly as she pressed the bottle to her lips. "Mama just wants to keep you all to herself. It's not fair to grandmommy, is it?" she shook her head, tsking. "No it's not, not at all. Mama will just have to learn to be more grateful to grandmommy, won't she?"

She half expected the baby to talk back, but she sighed in contentment when she realized that Jolene was more content with sucking on her bottle than talking to her.

"I guess we'll have to teach mama to be nicer, huh, Jolie?" she spun around once, looking at her daughter's bedroom. It seemed like she had finished crying, thankfully. She was surprised that she didn't wake up the baby. It wouldn't be the first that her loudness upset poor little Jolene. "Let's go see mama, hm? Maybe she'll be in a nicer mood and won't be so ride to grandmommy."

Opening the door to the room, she frowned when she noticed the tiny brunette on the bed still, a photo of Grady and her in her hands.

"Mom, please give me my baby," she weakly whispered reaching up to grab the child, but was denied permission.

Armani had moved her body away, hugging the infant closer to her chest with a pouting look. "I think Jolene wants to spend some time with her grandmommy," she teased, kissing her head.

"Please don't do this again," Kellis pleaded, standing up to her small height of five foot three. "I… mom, I want to feed-"

"Already feed her," she proudly exclaimed. "When she woke up from her nap, she was just so hungry I couldn't help but feed her. The poor little thing is just skin and bones."

Kellis' eyes dropped, hands turning into fists. "You… why didn't you come and get me?" she wiped away stray tears that were dripping down her face. "I told you that I wanted Grady and I to be the only ones that did that."

Armani shrugged her shoulders, looking down at her granddaughter, smiling. "Grandmommy wasn't just gonna let her little girl starve, now was she? You still weren't down with your pity fest, and I just hate hearing little Jolene near you when you're so distraught."

Kellis didn't respond like she had hoped, sniffling.

Jolene did, clearly distraught by them fighting enough to burst into tears.

"Oh, look what you did now!" She glared, hissing in annoyance. "Mama is so mean, isn't she? Even Jolene can see it."

Kellis didn't need another moment, grabbing the infant from her hands and hiding her. "Don't speak to her like that!" she cried, kissing her forehead as she rocked her. "She… she doesn't need you telling her constantly that I'm a bad mother."

"I've never said anything to that effect!" she protested, clutching her chest. "Fine, take the baby. Finally, you can start acting like a responsible mother."

With that being said, she turned around in a huff, slamming the door shut. If Kellis wanted to permanently shut her out of both her granddaughter's life, and her own, that was **fine**. She wasn't going to be treated so badly by her. She did everything a _good_ grandmother and mother should do for their progeny. And yet, she couldn't even pretend to be grateful.

When she was younger, when her own mother took care of her, she vowed to be a good mother to her babies. She wanted to be just like her, be admired like she admired her mother… but it seems like Kellis didn't even try and share the same dreams like she did.

Jolene was different.

Even as young as she was, she knew that she was going to be just like her if she could raise her correctly. It was going to take so much time and energy, especially since Kellis would be there to try and dissuade her granddaughter from being a model citizen like herself… but she'd still try.

Her baby needed as much help as she could.

* * *

 **Euphemia Nary-Moore, 52;**

 **District Twelve Female.**

* * *

Euphemia considered the lazy atmosphere surrounding her Headquarters to be a sign of complete disrespect.

Reaping day was almost upon them and they all needed to be brushing up on their training so that they could be prepared for when people inevitably attempted to revolt against the Hunger Games. She didn't want a repeat of last year where the revolters managed to break into the building and arm themselves with weapons, much less injure three of the new recruits.

She could remember the lashing she received by their counsel due to her negligence at properly training them all. There wasn't a single bone in her body that wanted to ever be under the harsh microscope that the counsel deemed appropriate for her and her squad.

When she entered the backroom, the forty year old woman was annoyed to find quite a large number of her brother's in arm still standing about the room, food and drinks being shoved down their mouths and laughter being shared.

One of them that was sitting down at a table, smiled in her direction, but then frowned when they saw who it was.

"Shouldn't you be on watch duty?" she asked, eyeing down the boy . "I don't recall giving you any special permissions to amble about, private."

The newbie sprung to his feet, padded knees hitting the table in his haste. "Y-yes, ma'am. I was just…"

There was a sharp twist in her voice that was enough to make several of the men and women that filled the backroom leave as soon as she managed out, "You have no excuses. It's better if all of you leave now before I decide to write punishments for you all."

They all left in a hurry, chattering going down to a complete minimum. Finally, she thought to herself. Perhaps now they'd be more willing to actually getting some work done instead of lazing about. The woman briefly considered reporting them all for not doing this duties, but decided against it. As much as she hated being light and coddling them, she forced herself to remember that it really was just a few weeks before the reapings would start and she needed a strong team that didn't have much hatred towards her.

A squardent low on morale would be of no use in a stressful situation such as keeping District Twelve in check once they lose two more citizens.

Still, she noticed that the table filled with older men still sitting around the table, cigarettes and alcohol being consumed as they sat oblivious to the noise. Only one of them turned their attention to her, but then looked back to their cards, flipping one on the table.

It wasn't until she spoke up. "It's hardly appropriate for all of you to be playing cards when there is work that needs to be done."

A loud chuckle escaped from the oldest looking of them all, rolling their eyes now as he pulled out an empty chair next to him, patting it. "Sit down with us, Nary. It's better for everyone if we're all in a good mood before the reapings start up." he took a drag of his cigarette, cards being shifted in his hands. "Not good if all the supervisors are in awful moods; residents are already getting angsty, don't need them to be any worse."

"Sit down, woman!" one of them shouts, banging their gloved hands. She looked down the man, noticing his budding red cheeks. Drunk. Of course he was. It was against their rules to consume alcohol during their workdays, and even then… they were constantly regularly tested for things such as this as part of their regulations. "Come and tell stories with us. Get the stick from your ass and socialize with your superiors."

She wasn't sure if it really was considered a good thing for her to be sitting down- there was work that needed to be done, and they had a very limited amount of time to do it all before time ran out. It was shameful for them to all just be lazing around the table. Imagine if word had gotten back to the Capitol, all of their punishments… the shame, the humiliation for being associated with the lazy bunch. It made her sick to be around them.

"I'm afraid I'll have to excuse myself-"

And with that, the group immediately began talking again, ignoring her protests.

Marcus', one of the plumpiest of the group, voice rose up the loudest, jolly laugh echoing around the room. "You remember your first kill, Nary, or has the years finally caught up to ya?" There was a joking tone in his voice, leaning back against his chair, staring at her with a cheeky grin.

Half of the group looked up to her, though others continued to sip their alcohol and play cards. The question forced the older woman to think for a moment. Of course she remembered it clearly. It wasn't an event that she could just forget easily, not like when she took Colette to her first day of school, or when she and Connor had a minor fight that blew over in twenty minutes.

No, the event had stayed fresh in her mind for the past thirty nine years. The day, and the reason… it had escaped her so many years ago, but the way they stared up at her, the weak thrashing of their arms and legs that bruised her ribs from when they tried to escape, the guilty but triumphant feelings she felt… Those never left her.

"It was during the trials," she said quietly. "When I was being trained as a Career, when I was thirteen and I was still in training."

She didn't know if any of them know what the trails were, only knowing that two of them were from the Upper Districts, the rest either residents of District Twelve or some obscure lower placing District. Still, the woman continued. They'd understand it quickly.

The trails were an application trail for promising Careers; eighty or so young District Two Academy children. They would be separated based on gender and wouldn't be allowed to see each other for several months at a time, depending on how long it took them to pass up a 'year'. Her brother, Eustace, managed to complete two years- something that was basically unheard of.

She couldn't say for the boys, but the girls would firstly be trained in etiquette and maintaining themselves in stressful situations. The beginning of the year included rather easy and common types of etiquettcy that most of the girls already knew most of this from living in District Two: keeping clean in the arena as to not disgust sponsors from continuing their support with them, learning courtesy manners, and using their bodies to their advantages.

Most of the girls continued their training, believing that all the hype about how stressful and hard the trials really were to be complete to just be an attempt to force more nervous girl's away from training. It seemed like a perfect thing to think of at the time, but they all quickly realize how wrong they all were.

The next year they decided that it was appropriate for them to start their physical training. They were given partners that excelled in areas where they failed, and vice versa. She remembered her girl, a timid girl by the name of Sycae. The training was one of the most brutal things she ever endured- sparing that could go on for several hours at a time, endurance training that resulted in trainors beating them while not allowing them to fight back… She bonded with Sycae because of the harsh environment.

When the year only had a month remaining, and there was still quite a large number of girl's left, they were forced to have a rather large fight against each other partners.

It wasn't a fair fight, Euphemia remembered. She had improved as well as she could since the beginning of the year, and Sycae hadn't. She could still remember the way Sycae's body hit the rough, unpadded cement underneath her, crying as she pleaded for her not to continue this. Euphemia, exhausted and close to the verge of tears, was told to end her by the trainers that watched over them. Sycae was weak. Pathetic. A child that would never become anything but a housewife of a disgruntled trainee and their lives were worthless to them.

And so she did. The shaft of the spear she was using her hit her just hard enough to knock Sycae out, giving the girl mercy as to not feel her life being drained out.

It wasn't until months later that Euphemia learned that she wasn't to ever become as attached to others, just because she worried for them already.

She didn't manage to become a Career fully, and another girl was chosen in her spot.

"She was weak, and I was not," was all she said, a long pause following it. None of the men seemed to enjoy her vague answer, she sensed that they wanted to look back further in how they felt and what was happening that made them kill them. That wasn't something she was willing to do right now.

"Didn't seem like the type of gal that enjoyed kills," Marcus laughed, nudging the man next to him. "Aye, what's the boy's name? The little rebellious punk…" he gave an extravagated twist of his hands, trying to recall the boy's name. Euphemia glared at him, shaking her head in indignation. "Your step-daughter's boyfriend, whatever his name was. Didn't seem like you cared much for it."

She didn't respond, staring at the group of men before looking back down at her helmet and putting on.

It wasn't appropriate for any of them to talk about this here. There was no honour in making death seem like a game.

"Get to your stations," she said, taking out her baton and waving it out in front of her. "All of you."

* * *

 _ **Let Them In - Pvris**_

* * *

 _ **Cloudsofcompassionhg. Blogspot. Com**_

* * *

 **Well, that's one non-reaping chapter down, twelve more to go and maybe I'll hit the reapings! :D How'd I do? I always worry when I write certain characters that I focus entirely on them and not enough on other characters, so please do tell me if I got your tribute out of character or if don't like my interpretation on them. We're all in this together!**

 **I'm shooting for a good 1.3k per POV, but I realize some of them ended up going** _ **way**_ **overboard or just barely managed to hit 1k so another apology for this all. In the future, POVs will most likely be much longer because I love arena and training chapters. :) So, don't fret if their introductory chapters are just a little shorter than it seems like they should be. Anyway, feel free to tell me if you'd like your characters to ally with anyone! (And ship. ;);))**

 **Okay, okay, legit, nothing to say? I'm really sorry for the wait, guys… literally my excuse is that people put out twenty million syots and I'm a lil whore that likes to submit to them. Plus, I found out about Star Wars: The Old Republic and now all my characters are strong and cool. Hope you guys all only hate me a lil?**

 **Thanks for the reviews, y'alls are the best reviewers ever, the tributes were so amazing, blah blah blah… okay now to the real reason this author's note was made! (Nah, just kiddin' y'alls. This was just my add on you silly gooses.)**

 **Skydork (Haiden aka Kuniva's and Anayi's creators) and I have created a book! :D Yeah, I know, great! We're very proud of it and we'd love to see you guys read it! It's a pretty big book (100k), but if I'm getting this out in time, the book should be free. If not, and I fucked up, which I probably am, it should be fairly cheap at $2.99 US Dollars. (3 dollars for y'all Canadians and about the same in Euro…?) We'd love to see what you guys think! :) Thank you all for the support if you do purchase it.**

* * *

 _What do you think of the tributes?_

 _What's your favourite POV?_

 _What's your least favourite POV?_

 _How's my spellers?_

 _On a scale to yes to yes, when will you buy my book? *increases peer pressure*_

 _What time of tragic trope/backstory do you prefer? (Teenage pregnancy, mental illness overcoming them, murder, etc)_


	5. Pedicabo ego vos et irrumabo te faciem

**Author here: Quite a bit of messed up rape, forced slavery, referenced sex (graphic for some), and a few other things in just Steele's POV alone. There's religion in Kaleb's section, also. If anyone of you need a summary of it, feel free to message me for it! Read at your own discretion, I'd rather not traumatize anyone… yet. Also, because this has been mentioned; this will be a recurring theme in this story. I enjoy depravity and due to the nature of this year, it will delve into things most authors tend to stay away from. I'll give plenty of warnings at the start of every chapter of what's going on and where to avoid it. Please remember your limits and don't hesitate to ask me any questions (or ask if I can avoid certain topics involving your character.)!**

* * *

 ** **Clouds of Compassion: Pre-Reapings****

* * *

 _Your doubts of me are constant reminders  
Of why I should stop hoping_

* * *

 **Steele McKinnon, 26;**

 **District Two Male.**

* * *

It looked like it was going to rain today.

The thought of his poor little slaves being drenched in the rain… oh, none of them would like it. He imagined that Lysander was going to be a little rowdy tonight if he didn't get him inside and out of his stable. And Hercules, his sweet little horse, hated the rain. Always cried whenever he _accidently_ left him outside during a storm.

Still, he thought, they were all so _filthy_. They needed a nice bath and to be scrubbed clean. Maybe he would let them play outside before he used a hose to clean them off. It would be fun to get in another bath with them all, too. Aeron was so obedient; the thirteen year old would do whatever Steele told him purely out of his own fear. He was always such a good student, it didn't surprise him that he was going to be submissive.

It would be an hour before he was going to be able to leave the school and go to his warehouse to tend to his darling little horses.

Oh, well. They'd survive some thunderstorms.

Steele surveyed his tiny sea of thirteen year olds boys, smiling brightly as they jogged around him, each of them being quiet. None of them seemed to have noticed or cared for the fact that Aeron had disappeared just a few days ago, which was perfect to him. No one cared about some cute little introvert, especially not a loner like Aeron. He was easy to ignore and people seemed to have no problem in pretending that he just dropped out to become an apprentice or joined the Academy. The latter was a joke, seeing as the tiny little thing could barely take an inch much less everything that the Academy boys would force inside of him when they realized his preference. If anything, Steele was saving him from the humiliating himself.

After noticing an influx of older students making their way towards them, several of them carrying their lunches and bags, he blew his whistle. It seemed like it was time to end his class, even if none of his students actually finished their twenty laps yet. The faster he was able to get them out of here, the faster he'd be able to get to treat his sweet little horses. Maybe he'd go home first and grab a few items that he usually wasn't able to use because of time restraints.

He thought for a moment, remembering the first horse he owned. Lysander had been with him for… what, since he was eighteen himself? He had lured the once tiny teenager into his warehouse for a night of sex and 'hey, your cunt of a brother stole my spot in the Hunger Games, but no hard feelings, right?' fun that only a fourteen year old and eighteen year old could have! They'd need to celebrate those long, but pleasant eight years together. It was so hard to tame a fourteen year old, but he somehow managed to do that, even if it took quite a lot of beatings. And, well… breaking Lysander's knee caps so that he would stop trying to run away when he let him out. Now he had a bucket and was obedient.

 _Yes,_ he thought to himself. He'd pay lots of attention to little Lysander tonight. Maybe they'd even watch Lysander's brother's reaping and then the fun highlights of his experience throughout his Capitol adventures. And then his death, which, for some reason unbeknownst to Steele, was his favourite. Watching him be trampled to death by a rogue horse just oddly satisfied him.

Steele made his way towards the office, a small pep in his step now. Was it wrong of him to be so excited about toying with his favourite? No, he reasoned. Everyone liked to mess around, and he was in the right to toy with and fuck his property as much as he liked. Even if people tended to be a little… squeamish about it, they had no right to take them away as long as he treated them correctly.

He grinned. Of course, no one would ever know about it, so it wasn't worth thinking about anymore.

The twenty six year old grabbed for his bag, roughly shoving a few of his files for his students. Older ones, of course. As much as he adored Daveed, one of his newer, rebellious horses, and Aeron, he just wanted someone a bit more experienced. There were two previous students of his that fit it to the T; one being an older boy, a ginger from the more blessed sides of the District, that ended up nearly becoming expelled a little earlier into the year due to the fact that he tried to assault one of the younger students. Money buys power, though, and the boy had enough of it that the younger student was hushed and transferred away.

The older boy reminded him of himself when he was younger; how devious and destructive he was, it attracted him greatly.

The other being… well. Steele had often fantasized about being able to control someone who needed to be with others or else they would fall to pieces for no particular reason. It was an attractive trait, even if he knew how annoying it would be in due time. Perhaps he'd be able to look past this one day, seeing as he had years to be able to shape him better. At nineteen, his mind was as dull as a hammer, but as moldable as clay.

And Steele was very, _very_ good at using his hands.

Once the blue-eyed man heard the faint sound of laughter in the background, a bell ringing loudly, he grabbed a large satchel from his desk. It seemed like their day had ended a hell of a lot earlier than he expected, but maybe he had been daydreaming for a lot longer than he had really been expecting. Any paperwork he needed to do could wait until later on.

Maybe Aeron or Lysander could become good little tables tonight; they seemed to like it the last few times he had done it.

Leaving the room once again, he grinned at a tiny teacher that walked passed him for a moment, even more pleased when he noticed that he flinched. Was he really that scary? Many people liked to flinch when they saw him, but he couldn't imagine that he was _truly_ that bad.

Maybe that was the best. Scared people were more biddable… and made better lovers.

It seemed that time had passed just as quickly as before, the large, immaculately cleaned warehouse finally coming into his line of sight. He was getting too excited now, finding his pants tightening at the thought of what he might do first.

Steele the door to his warehouse, lightly humming to himself as he scanned the mostly empty warehouse. It seemed like he actually did move them back into the warehouse last night; weird. But who was he to judge the fineness of his actions?

He finally locked eyes onto his favourite, finding him half asleep in the corner, long blonde hair tangled up around him. By now, since Steele prefered it longer on him, it had grown just long enough that it reached his lower back. It made him look better, in his mind. Just about anything could make him look better, honestly. He looked so unsightly, nothing like his older brother who, going by memory alone, was very attractive. Long, blonde hair that curled at the ends, and thighs that could crush a man's head open.

It was disappointing to see that he didn't look like his brother more, but at least he still had his small shape that made it easier to lug him around. It was easier to chain him up to his other toys when he weighed so little.

"S-sir?" a tiny voice rose out from another one of the stables, whimpering loudly as Aeron stood up from his stables, the ball gag that was previously in his mouth now hanging around his neck. How he managed that, he couldn't tell. It seemed like he was actually rebelling against him now. "I-it… the 'cuffs, s-sir… t-they're… t-t-they're cu-cuttin'..." he stopped, whimpering as he shook, allowing him to hear the chains shaking now, his panting more apparent now.

"I'll take them off tomorrow when I take you for your walk," he announced, his voice making Aeron visibly flinch.

Lysander looked up at him, but his gaze went somewhere else entirely, eyes as dark as they've ever been. He was quiet, making no noise as Steele forced him over towards the large horse, grabbing his shoulders and putting them down and motioning for him to bring his rear up now. It wasn't hard for the twenty-two year old to figure out exactly what his owner to do now, correcting himself into the right position.

"That's a good little horsie," he smiled, teeth now showing as his hand lowered to caress Lysander's bare body, forcing it back just enough to rub against the horse's stomach. Hercules made a noise of complaint, but relented after a moment, tail flicking upwards and into Steele's face. "Are you ready for your surprise?"

Lysander whimpered.

* * *

 **Lea Backwater, 16;**

 **District Four Female.**

* * *

To no one's surprise, Lea had practically carried her team to the mock finals. Three teams had been easily eliminated by her without much help from her teammates; who, as of which, had been appropriately deemed Useless One, Useless Two, and Failure Three. The third one being due to the fact that she, Emie, had been disqualified _twice_ already. Once by 'accidently' getting killed by some half crippled and frenzied sixteen year old- one, mind you, that was trying to get someone else, but Emie was _so fucking useless that she ran right in front of his target and got beaten upside the head with his club._

She tried to not dwell on the uselessness of her team, choosing to focus entirely on the players in front of her. There were three that weren't armed, but they were in a tight formation with their teammates that would be impossible to get to unless she managed to break it. Which seemed to be impossible, even with how skilled Lea was.

And it seemed to be even more impossible once she heard Cora shout out in pain.

The girl had turned around to see Cora on the ground, fake blood pouring out from her shirt. A large hole had been cut, revealing a shallow cut to her ribs. So much for dulled down weapons being used, Lea thought, rolling her eyes as trainer stepped in, calling out Cora being disqualified.

A quick jab to her ribs knocked the teenager out of thoughts, knocking Lea onto her knees as buzzer went off. She cursed, looking up at the rather terrified looking teenager that managed to knock her out. Of course, she cursed repeatedly in her head, the one time that she was distracted, she was disqualified. Of fucking course.

"Alright," the trainer said, blowing their whistle and waving a flag. "Team Five, your leader has been caught. You're out, go hit the showers."

She grumbled in anger, forcing herself to bite her tongue lest she start yelling that it was unfair she was knocked out when she was 'concerned' for her fallen teammate, but she knew that they would only penalize her for it. Next week was going to be their written exam and she was in the final four groups already; it wasn't like as going to completely knock her out of the chance to become a Career in the next two years.

Quickly moving away from the teams, she made a grab for the door, almost sprinting out of the door.

"Why didn't you come help me?" Cora asked, clutching her side in pain as she tried to keep up with Lea's speed.

Lea gave her one of her most convincing smiles, flipping her hair back. "I was about to, really. But remember?" she pointed to her fake bloodied arm. Lea was finally grateful for the Academy issued uniform that they wore during their mock fights, at any impact, - and any, even the slightest trauma to the gels - the gels that was positioned in certain areas of their bodies would go off and let the trainers know who was out. "I got disqualified as soon as you went down. I couldn't do anything."

Cora frowned, now half fawning over her wound. "Oh, Lea, I'm sorry! I didn't notice."

She smiled, shaking her head. "It's fine, Cora."

The girl looked happier after that, the horror that was previously painted on her face falling off, and then grinned. "Did you see Hau's face, though? He looked so scared when you got up and looked pissed. I thought he was gonna pee himself."

Lea nodded absentmindedly to her rambles, wrapping her arms around her ribs and rubbing the bruise. It already swollen. Fuck. She frowned. _Asshole_.

Just as they arrived at the locker room, she spotted Lynn and her friend hanging around the front. She nudged Emie, motioning to her - unattractive, beastly looking, loser - older sister.

Lynn glared at her, glancing between her friend and Lea and then Lea's friends. She looked like she wanted to run, Lea noted, giddy at the fact her sister was actually becoming scared of her. "Can you, like, not? You smell."

Pouting, Lea put her hands on her hips. "And do you know why that is, dear older sis?" she waited a moment, dramatically lifting up the small blue check mark on her trainer's uniform. "Today was the mock trials for next year. You know," she giggled. "The one you failed to get int? I don't understand how you managed that, it was so easy."

Of course, her failure was due entirely because Lea had ripped up her exam and blamed it on their kitten. The Academy didn't accept retrials and so her sister lost her chance entirely to be a contender for the Hunger Games. Not that she had one in the first place, Lea mused. In a sea of failures, Lynn was the one that they all worshipped and hoped to become one day. The penecale of horrible failures.

The older girl frowned, tears welling up in her eyes as she leaned against the wall. "How nice for you. Now, if you excuse me…"

She continued. "Oh, and guess what? I heard Marlin has been calling for me lately," she tapped her fingers against her chin, trying to gauge her sister's reaction. Lynn seemed more annoyed than anything, sniffling pathetically. "Isn't that sweet of him? I don't return his advances, of course, but It's just so sweet that he's not giving up. Maybe I'll see him at the dance for the Careers tonight, won't that be nice?"

Lynn was silent, wiping her face as tears marked her face, forcing the girls to break their fence surrounding them. The friend mumbled something under her breath, but it went ignored by the group of girls.

"Did you see her face?" Coral whispered, in complete giggles as opening the door for the lockers. "She looks so bad now."

Stripping out of her uniform, Lea giggled in return. "It's honestly surprising that they lasted a year. I can barely stand her for a minute."

She stepped in the showers, all three girls going into different ones. Emie spoke first. "She's so ugly, too. Honestly, can you imagine having sex with _that_? Ew, no thank you. I'd rather take it from someone straight out of District Twelve!"

And really, who wouldn't? Lea thought it was a fair comparison. No matter who told them that they both looked alike, Lynn was obviously the less fortunate of the two. It was a miracle that she was able to find Marlin, no matter how easy he is. It only took her a few weeks of teasing him and some late night showers that resulted in him catching her half nude before he was practically begging to stay in her bed.

Lea thought she was justified in stealing him. After all, Lynn had always said that Lea was a thief. First she took her mom - an accident, of course, their mother had started to hemroid, accused her of stealing her life, always swore that she stole her friends… all unfair accusations. It wasn't her fault that her friends all liked her more and their grandmother was so old. She didn't have to take it out on her.

But fair was fair, Lea mused in her head, stepping out of the showers and towards her locker. If Lynn was going to accuse her or try and make her miserable, Lea would retaliate.

And she could do it a lot better than Lynn could.

Humming to herself, she turned off the water for the shower. The party for them was starting soon and she was excited. Marlin would be there, considering he was a trainee before he failed the finals. It'd be a chance for her to have some fun before she came home. Maybe once the Games for this year started, she'd amp up their little fling. Sure, he was cute and loyal, two things she liked in followers. And it would piss of Lynn.

She could hear one of them talking about how much praise they were getting in their training and how they planned to override what the Academy picked and volunteer before the pre-selected volunteer could this year, but due to the change, they couldn't. The other girl ate it up, her pitch rising and stumbled over her words in an attempt to sound sympathetic and give words of encouragement.

Lea couldn't help but laugh to herself; did they really believe them?

There was almost an exciting feel to watching the older girls have pity parties about not being able to volunteer for this year. Watching them break down in tears, demanding people for their attention onto them… it was laughable. Almost every girl here was a worthless cause when it came to actually training. Everyone but her.

Still, there was a dull aching feeling to keep listening to the girls, to turn around and join the pity fest the girls were in, if only to pretend to be interested in their feeling. She herself only had a few people she knew close like Emie, Coral, and Marina, but no one that she ever considered a friend. They were people she had to see on a daily and they just decided to hang around her.

"Don't cry, Ailise," the youngest looking friend said, patting the back of her thick ringlets of white-blonde hair. "It's alright… You're still one of the best here, really. You have all the apprentice opportunities left still!"

One of the girls, the one called Ailise, noticed her finally, giving her a nervous smile, nudging her friend to look at her. Lea smiled at them both, giving a brief wave as she dropped her towel, exposing her still damp body.

"I-I'm sure you're upset about this, too, Lea," Ailise said, suddenly looking at any place other than where Lea was, red faced once she noticed the lack of clothes on her..

"There's always next year," she replied, grabbing her brush from the locker, running the hard bristles through her dry waves of dark, ashy blonde hair.

"I'm eighteen…"

She smiled again, turning to face them fully. "Then maybe you'll get lucky and be picked for this year. Try putting out less and put in more."

They left the locker room after that, not bothering to see the reaction the girl had, though Lea wished they did almost. It was delightful seeing the older teenager become annoyed after making such a big deal over how important she was. Oh well. There were more laughs to had.

Making their way down the long hallway for the party, Lea couldn't help but smile brightly. A party for the top Careers, she recited in her head. And poor little Lynn wasn't invited. She wished that was able to see what Lynn was doing, if she was crying in her pillow, depressed and overloaded with shame. It served her right. The thought of her doing so… she laughed, loudly. Oh, to be a fly on the wall and let everyone know how low and pathetic Lynn was!

Once they reached the large hall that held their little party, Emie shouted.

"Oh my Panem, Lea," Emie gasped, dramatically grabbing onto her arm. She raised her hand, pointing at a sulking figure coming in right behind them with a playful and forced shocked voice. "He's following you. Lea! Do you think he's a stalker? I bet he is, honestly. Like… you're so pretty and he's probably desperate for someone as good for you since he only had your sister for like a year, who wouldn't want something good..."

With the two other girls joining in the chatter of Lynn and her relationship failures, Lea smiled at Marlin, and winked.

 _Another loss for Lynn, and another win for me._

* * *

 **Kaleb Alpine, 16;**

 **District Eight Male.**

* * *

Kaleb Alpine couldn't help but smile at how nice today seemed to be.

Jenna had been hanging off of him almost the entire morning, her soft, familiar laughter echoing in his ears like a melody and he was the lucky audience that was allowed to listen to it. The sound was still too great for him not to join in, half-heartedly attempting to push her off of him as he leaned against the cold walls of the building.

"Get off of me, Genevieve," he laughed, putting up his hands in defeat as he waved her away as if she were a pest. "You're so annoying."

"I missed you though," she whined teasingly, pressing her cheek against his. "You're always busy now. I'm bored when you're not here."

He hesitated to reply, pushing her away successfully. Kaleb struggled not to reveal the large grin on his face, failing miserably once he noticed her own large smile. "Oh, poor you. I guess you'll just have to find something to do until I'm done tonight."

She laughed. "You're horrible."

"And you're annoying."

Jenna gave a large, dramatic sigh that left her attempting to wrap her arms around him. "You're so mean to me."

He couldn't help another large grin from appearing on his face, pressing his face back against her plump, soft cheeks. "That's because you're a pest. Now, out," he pushed her towards the door, gathering up her heavy coat and shoving it in her arms. "I'll come get you when I don't have work to do."

She complied, if not for just the time being. He imagined she'd come back before he was completely finished, or just loiter around the area in hopes that he would finish early. That sounded like her.

Kaleb did a brief sweep of the room once the door shut with a loud _bang._

Everything looked like it was in order, but he couldn't quell the thought that something just didn't feel right. His father wanted their small parish to look nice for when their lone Victor came in. He was excited to meet their recent Victor, Birre Kinsley, for the first time since she had been reaped. She had come to see his father numerous times before she was reaped for the Hunger Games a couple years back, but after her victory, she suddenly stopped coming altogether.

How she managed to convince his father to allow her twenty minutes of undisturbed prayer and reading in one of their main halls, he couldn't figure out. His father knew, of course, but refused to tell him anything more than that she wanted privacy. When they had people who needed to be left alone to pray or meditate, dad just allowed them to use his office, never a whole wing that could've been used by a number of other worshippers. It wasn't his place to judge her, but he could still wonder, right? He'd always been curious, and now was no different. Curiosity was a good strength to have, that's what dad said.

Kaleb closed the door to the room, pleased. He only had a few more rooms to go until he would be completely done with it. It wouldn't take him long.

Making his way down the long corridor, he could only frown at how empty their tiny church was. In District Eight, religion was heavily restricted, and over the past few years had become even more obscure as a factor in people's lives. The Peacekeepers, during their raids on buildings, would confiscate any religious items and often enough, religious figures would be punished for sedition and inciting violence. It upset him greatly; most religions in the District didn't seem to be violent at all, most notably his own religion. His religion promoted love and peace, not the hate that they accused it of being.

He could remember the stories that his father would tell him about their religion. The uplifting stories, the wisdom that his father sprouted from their holy book, the divine miracles, and the way his father fawned over their merciful, benevolent god. They used to be able to fill all the pews in their makeshift parish. It used to be impossible for him to sleep because of how often he heard others singing gospel and hymns - not that he ever minded. He loved to sing with them during worship hours and often snuck out of bed to sing with them.

Now they were losing the people's faith, and people were leaving or abandoning their faith. It disturbed him too much, but he tried not to grow bitter about it. He tried to see their perspective- all they saw was the bad, not the good. Faith can be shaken, but not fully broken. People needed to see the good in life, and he hoped that soon, soon they would be able to. People had told him that he was trying to cling to false hope - or criticized him for being so naive and childish for thinking about things like this - and attempting to drag others into believing such things.

Kaleb couldn't comprehend why so many of them believed that having faith was false hope; he had seen so many miracles performed, and could feel the gentle reminders of hope that that just had to be something there! Something good, loving… merciful. In the bad, there was always potential for good. He knew from experience. Even during the darkest of days, hope would always survive as it was stronger. Kaleb knew this first hand. To achieve happiness was the only thing he wanted.

Still, he tried not to pretend he was completely blind to the misfortune the District was in right now. His family was spared any tragedy, but he couldn't say the same for so many others. People were scared, and scared people tended not to think rationally.

A voice spoke up suddenly, noticeably on the verge of tears. "Please f-forgive me for… for my mistakes, for… for what I plan to do."

Kaleb stopped, listening. He didn't think anyone else was here, but it seemed he was wrong. The voice didn't sound familiar until he remembered about Birre, the victor. She was early.

He peaked into the room he presumed she was in, opening the door just enough to notice the young, barely nineteen-year old girl hunched over a pew, head hidden from his view. Had he cleaned this room? He didn't think so.

Birre seemed to have noticed his presence as soon as the door opened a smidge bit more, whipping her head around so they were eye to eye. He hadn't noticed before, but she had a large scar running down her face, from ear to cheek, deep enough that he wondered if it was the reason she stayed in her palace so often. It didn't look disgusting, but was clear enough that even Kaleb, as tolerant as he was, felt a bit uncomfortable at looking at it.

"I-I'm sorry," Birre said, clutching the back of the pew nervously, standing up to her small height of five foot one. "I was told..." she didn't continue, grabbing for her coat that was thrown to the back of her own pew. "I'm sorry i-if I disrupted you."

"You're good," he said, a light smile on his face as he tried to move closer to the girl. She flinched, looking down at her feet. It seemed like she was nervous around him now. He couldn't figure out why. Jenna always told him that his babyface usually made people feel at ease- an advantage of youth, he supposed. "I'm sorry for disturbing you, but I needed to come in here to clean up."

Birre flushed red, crossing her dark arms around herself as she nodded. "O-oh. I-I didn't... I-I'm s-sorry for getting..." again, she didn't continue, stepping away from him, knees clicking together. "I-I need... G-go... I need to go, I-I'm so s-sorry for... this."

"You don't need to apologize," he smiled, shrugging his shoulders. Kaleb looked down at where she was previously sitting at, picking up an old looking, worn out bible. He smiled. "Is this yours?" he asked, holding it out. "I can get you a new bible to go along this one. We have a few in the back."

"N-no," she responded, shaking her head. "That's... It's not mine. I-I just found it. I-I don't... I'm not..."

Birre hesitated, looking up at him finally. Kaleb tried to smile at her, still offering it for her. She didn't take it, sucking in a deep, shaky breath before turning around, stumbling away from him.

He wondered why she was so nervous now. Had he done something that made her nervous- or had he interrupted a more private moment. Earlier, it looked like she was praying, but he couldn't tell. Her eyes were open, and she was speaking out loud, but everyone had their preferred ways of praying. He couldn't judge her at all for it.

The Hunger Games probably did quite a wonder on her also. The blonde remembered that she went through a lot during her year. Two kills, one being her own ally while he slept, and an almost pitch black arena that looked dreadful to be in. The arena was horrible- a series of mazes, all pitch black and with their own different traps at every end. It only took a few days before most of the tributes died due to the arena. Even the Careers had been at a heavy disadvantage. It was dreadful to watch. Paranoia most likely set in for the girl, even if it had been a few years since her games ended. He couldn't blame her, he couldn't imagine surviving an arena like that.

Sighing, he pocketed the bible. If she was being honest about the bible not being hers, he wondered whose it actually was. Due to the well-worn spine, he imagined that it was one of their older patrons, but he couldn't think of who might have brought it. Most of them didn't regularly bring their bibles out with them when they visited, but he didn't want to rule anyone off just yet.

 _I can keep it for now,_ he thought. _After I'm done cleaning, I can drop it off for dad and he can find it's owner._

* * *

 **Kelvin Fritz, 62;**

 **District Five Male.**

* * *

The work hour had just started by the time Kelvin opened the door for one of his workers.

"It says here that you've missed three days already this month," Kelvin said sharply, tapping a holochrome several times to get on a page that read _Work schedule of Armitage, Nixyn._ The screen moved away from the page, showing stubs of 'unexcused absence', 'no show', and a tally of those.

"That's not my fault…" he narrowed his hazel eyes. "Sir."

"Your excuses are not wanted," he replied. "It's becoming a routine every month."

Clicking back to the calendar, he showed him a mini map of all the days he's missed each month, using the tips of his finger to circle last month. "We are not a charity or a volunteer job; you have a duty to come in on the days you're scheduled."

"It won't happen again," the worker said, grabbing his ratty looking jeans anxiously. They licked their lips several times, before speaking slower. "Listen… I can't lose my job, sir… My husband is sick, he can't work… He needs me to take care of him."

"Then you should be working harder, not less," Kelvin stood from his seat. "In spite of your predicament, I'm going to have to let you go."

Nixyn's eyes bulged, becoming pale despite his darker complexion. "No, you can't do that. Please. I need this job! He needs me to have money to help him."

"As sad as that is," Kelvin shook his head, "you are a liability. Irresponsible. Lazy. We are one of the largest factories in this District, Armitage. We need workers who will show up on time to do their work."

"I meet my quotas," he pleaded. "Please. Please. _Please._ I'll do double shifts, sir. Please, I can't… he'll die."

His heart twinged for a moment at the foreboding mention at death, remembering the death of his wife just two years prior. Kelvin shook his head, forcing the grief from his body. This wasn't the time for sympathy or for him to think of his wife, he was a professional that had a job to do.

"I wish you all the best in your search for another job." he looked at him for a moment, and then motioned for the door. "The paperwork has been cleared for your leave."

Nixyn wiped his eyes several times, rudely kicking over his chair in anger before slamming the door behind him.

Kelvin sighed. That went as well as expected. The man had left on his own two feet and only a chair was damaged so far. Though, he found the latter rather childish. Destruction of property was sadly too common when he needed to let go of a worker, the first being threats against himself. They were usually quickly removed or apprehended by the two large Peacekeepers standing guard in front of his door. It was still too common for his likening.

Kelvin poured himself a cup of coffee, flipping on the on switch for a improperly tuned up radio pushed back against the spotty water moulded corner on the far end of the room, static speaking louder than what the announcer had been saying. They had only just moved away from insistent blabbering about the upcoming Games, and moved on the daily missing reports and deaths.

It seemed like the recent toll had gotten higher the last few years, something that unnerved the sixty-two year old. He had needed to fire and report so many workers in just the past few months, he wondered if another small rebellion was starting up. It was starting to ruin the reputation of the factory; and more importantly, _him._ After nearly forty six years of hard labour, this was the last thing that should be happening.

Turning back to the radio, he fixed the antenna, carefully tuning it until the static dispersed into a quiet hum that crackled occasionally.

" _As of the eighth, another family of young children from the Ohm sector have gone missing. Alyona Smirnov last reported that her five of her eight children went missing in the Districts hospital waiting area while she was tending to her youngest daughter's injuries with a doctor,"_ announced the small radio. " _Of these children, Kassia, age 15, Irena, age 13, Makar, age 8, Yosyp, age 7, and young Kacper, age five. As of now, Peacekeepers have yet to rule out foul play in the disappearance of the Smirnov children…"_

He turned it down, shaking his head slightly at the announcement. Crime was going up, and he didn't like it. Things needed to calm down soon before they had another riot.

Kelvin paced back and forth through his tiny office, quietly looking out the window to view the workers. Most of them had already started working, the loud hums and coughs of broken generators becoming more apparent. He searched the areas again, noting that several workers still had not arrived. The sixty two-year old shook his head in annoyance. Lazy. So many of them were lazy and irresponsible.

It'd be years since he had ever missed a day since he started four decades ago. He had mycoplasma pneumonia and started coughing up blood… but that was when he was seventeen, decades ago before he gained his much more serious demeanor. Now, he had come in day after day, illness or not.

He spotted Nixyn down near a generator, red faced from his anger, talking with another worker. Before he could watch any further, a Peacekeeper with their baton raised approached them, forcing the two of them apart. Nixyn looked like he was going to protest for a moment before the Peacekeeper turned on the electric baton and moved it to his back, a quiet sign of _move._

Even as he turned around, Kelvin knew the glare he was getting from the friend and the glower the former worker had for him as he was removed from the factory. It was a familiar feeling, one that he had known ever since he was a young adult calling out orders and the lazy. To not receive it… Kelvin almost laughed. No, he was a strawman for their anger. They hated his reputation for being someone that punished the lazy and the recalcitrant, disliked his willingness to throw them to the officials to be properly punished…

Childish, he thought. They wanted someone that shared their values, that allowed them as many chances and leeway, not him; a supposed Capitol sympathizer that was quick to punish and had a serious, no nonsense personality that unnerved them.

They held onto their anger, allowing it to build up in their bodies, wanting to rebellion against the system that fed them. He was their leader, the one they looked up to guidance and actions for, their overseer that had a hand in whether or not they would go home to their families and sleep with half full bellies or need to be placed in body bags and dumped and forgotten about by morning.

They didn't understand the position they were in, that they were never going to do anything with their anger.

Even if he rebelled like they wanted, they'd replace him with someone that would do the work obediently, and cheaper.

His minor rebellion would last no more than a few precious hours, if they were in a good mood, quiet and unnoticed to anyone else but those in the factory, before they would silence him with a quick blow to the back of the head.

He'd be a clog in the system of gears that was easily replaced for something more efficient.

It was easier to follow the rules and enforce them, he had realized as a teenager. It brought him the opportunities that allowed him to feed and protect his wife and son, give them the love and security that he never had as a child growing in an orphanage.

If he had the chance to restart his life starting from the beginning, he knew that he'd do it all over again.

* * *

 _ **The Heartless - Pvris**_

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 _ **Cloudsofcompassionhg. Blogspot. Com**_

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 **It's been seven years since I last updated; how many accounts have long since been abandoned? ;(**

 **No jk hey guys it's only been… a couple months, not even a full handful (yet)! I've seen stories go for years before they were updated. So… not too bad, I guess. But then I remember the fact that there's a certain four of you that literally have updated multiple days in a row with only 12 hours in between hours… so, my self-esteem feels broke now. Thanks a lot guys, I'll never get up to those standards! [Just kidding]**

 **Okay okay anyway. I'm here. I feel better and more energy to write. (and thank you tracelynn; your encouragement helped so much.) The last few months have been incredibly hard on me which caused me to lose any motivation or desire to even touch my keyboard, and real life was even harder to get back into. Since December started, it's been difficult for me and my family after a series of unfortunate events I'm not comfortable sharing just yet. Without saying anything about it and drawing this even more out, I've gained back my motivation to write and start writing. I really hope y'all are still out there reading! For anyone that is, I'm glad you're still reading. :)**

 **So… get ready to see the rest of these tributes. I have about three/four POVs down (And like seventy million different scenes) for future chapters, so I'm hoping that'll help me shell out some more chapters in quicker timing. Due to me always jinxing myself, I won't say, but I do promise to be better at this. :) The reapings, while horribly boring at times, are going to be a lot easier than this, and goodbyes are some of my favourite things to write so. :) I will be leaving on the 10th of Feb (yesterday/today, depending on when you're reading this!) and won't be back until the 15th so don't expect an update until at least the 20th of Feb again because it's gonna take me some time to calm down and feel comfortable writing again.**

 **Please rest assured that I** _ **refuse**_ **to give up on this story. I've had too much fun these last few months writing out my ideas and doing research on everything for this, and I won't go back on it now. There might be a few months without updates, but even if it takes me a year or several, there's no going back now! I'm in the long haul, so I hope you're all ready for this to keep going also.**

 **Again, big love for Caleb and Haiden (IVolunteerAsAuthor and Skydork) for looking over this for me! :) They've been great validating my ideas and helping my writing grow for shit to 'well, at least this one sentence is readable' so please do give them thanks!**

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 _What do you think of the tributes?_

What's your favourite POV?

What's your least favourite POV?

 _Hvordan er min stavning? [How is my writing]_

 _Do you like how many tributes that are being written every chapter, or should I add/decrease them?_

 _What's a tribute you really liked that everyone else hated in past SYOTS?_


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